Telling your story - 2.0

        I suppose it happens more often than I realize. An idea I explored in a previous post, a tiny seed I scattered in hopes that it might take hold in at least a few minds has apparently landed on skeptical soil. I don’t know how widespread that doubting doubt may be, but based on a couple recent email conversations I feel the need to elaborate. If I’m going to turn you off, I want to at least make my case before you leave. So let’s see if I can fill in some of the blanks.

The last time out I explained what I thought were the virtues of telling your own story. So let's go back to the beginning of that rationale. Do you have a reason to commit any part of your personal story to the printed page…….whether on the back of an envelop or in a handsome paperback book? If you can’t think of a good argument for doing that, why bother? If you have better ways to spend your time, please carry on.

On the other hand, perhaps your reluctance is a matter of age. If you are 30 or 35 I hope it is too soon to be telling your life story. But if you have reached your October or November Years, and have a story to tell, it might be time to create that legacy-gift for your loved ones. Chances are some of them are already wondering what has made you the way you are. 

Yet even if that late-life condition describes you, what reasons might you have for putting your story on paper? Would an honest accounting of your personal life-journey hold the promise of a best-selling “tell all” book, with the possibility of a lucrative movie deal to follow? If so, that might be a good reason to move ahead.

On the other hand it pays to be realistic. In all likelihood our story, yours or mine, won’t attract that kind of attention. More to the point……how wide a distribution do you want it to have? As I explained in that earlier post my autobiographical effort was a very personal thing, frank and unembellished…….offering the reality I felt my loved ones deserved to know about me, without dwelling on every secret in my closet. And though it was meant for them, I was surprised at how much I learned about myself in the process.

So, assuming you have identified your reason(s) for telling your story, and the audience you have in mind, how would you proceed? Let’s consider that possibilities.

First of all, what do you want your story to tell that intended audience about you? Many published autobiographies are written to glorify the subject person, to build them up, and make them seem more appealing. Others are meant to strip away the superficial to reveal the “real person,” warts and all. Those extremes, and all the possibilities in between, are perfectly valid motives. It’s no one else’s place to judge the reasons you have in mind, but it is important that you know what they are. The vignettes you choose to create the life-portrait you want to paint of yourself will be determined by the purpose of your telling.

In my case I was telling a story intended to be read by only a few close family members. (How I managed to limit its distribution was explained in the first ‘Telling your story’ post.) The point is I was speaking to people who know me well. My telling would not be an ego trip for their benefit. I wanted to be as realistic and honest as possible. Those were the factors that dictated my story-telling choices.

To digress for a moment, setting out to create a fictional, novel-length story is a daunting task…..complex and time consuming. The writer must imagine the general thrust of his or her story, and the characters who will bring that story to life…..fleshing them out into real people the reader will believe. And all the while each piece of the story, from beginning to end, must fit together with all the other pieces. You start off knowing that you must carry on, if you stick with it, for months, even years. And there will certainly be times when you ask yourself if it is really worth the effort.

Telling your story in a vignette format, an anthology of brief, free-standing recollections, is something very different. Once you have decided what your story is meant to illustrate……whether you are a hero or a failure, very smart or not-so-smart, lucky or star-crossed, etc (most of us are a blend of all those and more)…….your task will be to choose and put in a written form snippets of your life that support your case. A collection of those applicable life incidents, those individual bits of evidence, assembled in a coherent whole will be your story.

Caution…..that is not the time to be in a hurry. As you choose and tell of those moments, the “snippets” that mean the most to you, take the time to understand why those particular incidents, often unremarkable at the time, have remained so compelling. Be ready to help your reader grasp what you believe are the lessons learned or the truth revealed in each episode. As you do that, you will be reliving those lessons all over again, remembering what you may have forgotten.

That in fact is one of the most appealing parts of telling a story in a vignette format. I did not, as I do in writing a novel, set out to imagine, from beginning to end, the story I wanted to tell. Instead, I closed my eyes and revisited specific times, places, and people I had encountered on my long journey to now…….moments that for some reason have stayed with me.

I was retrieving memories of childhood, school days, and adolescent times……soaking up feelings and impressions……remembering how they felt and their impact on the timid kid I was in those days. Simply stated, my research was choosing which of those recollections best illustrated the ‘me’ I wanted the reader to know.

In the course of those pleasant mind-travels I kept bumping into scarcely-remembered ways I had changed over time……outgrowing the old me and becoming someone new. Those were the transformations I wanted my few readers to understand……how I had changed and why. 

Truth to tell, I was surprised to find how much of me had been lying dormant in the corners of my mind. Sweeping up all that mental litter and bringing it out into the light day was something I should have done long ago.

Finally, on a practical level. Limiting your actual writing efforts to one remembered incident at a time…..a page or two or three……makes the writing process manageable. In the beginning you don’t have to be overly concerned about the chronological order of those pages you are creating. Those individual pieces can be arranged in any order you want when the time comes to create a finished product. 

       In the meantime, enjoy your meandering in the past, and while you’re there make the notes you will need to create an account of the moments you are visiting. Before long you will have gathered the raw materials you need to tell the story of you……the way you want it told.

       There you are. Telling your story that way is easy and enjoyable. I'm guessing both you and your readers will be glad you gave it a try.

How about your story

        Of course you have stories to tell. Everyone does. Most of our tales are not about great adventures or epic achievements……but instead focus on seemingly unremarkable moments from our past, that for reasons we don’t always understand have become part of our remembered history. At first glance those isolated recollections may seem incidental, but we know they are important. Why else would we remember them? Some have served as stepping stones on the path to becoming the person we are.

      Chances are your family and friends have heard some of your stories….the ones you have been willing to tell. But do they realize what those memories mean to you, what they say about you? Do the people you care about the most, the ones you believe have a right to know, understand how and why those apparently incidental hints of your past are important to you? If not, why not take the time to tell them? Help them understand.

So where am I going with this? Have I once again veered off on one of my dubious sidetracks? Not exactly. Though what I have to share may not strike you as a good idea, I have been there and done that, and I know it works.

A while back I came across some notes I had assembled years before about events from my childhood and adolescence. Having waded through those early accounts of my very personal history I decided it was time to dig deeper into my addled brain and gather more of that history……to assemble a more comprehensive collection of episodes that track my growing up, from age 3 or 4 to age 83. An autobiography, if you will. 

Those brief vignettes, 50 in all, would revisit special moments in my life-journey, some of them major life events, most of them innocent-appearing times that held a particular meaning for me, even if they sounded silly to everyone else.

It would be the most personal writing I have ever done. The result was neither elegant or artistic, but instead the simple telling of my own story in my own words, touching on eighty years of highlights and lowlights that taken together seem to flesh out a realistic portrait of who I am.

To be sure my story is intended for a very limited audience. It is definitely not intended for general distribution. Once I had settled on the finished manuscript I ordered five copies of the nice paperback, one for Roma and me, and one for each of our children.

And here is the point I want to make…….you can do that too, whether it is your personal history, a collection of family legends, or short stories you have composed……you can leave your own mini-legacy for your children and grandchildren.

“Not me,” you say. “I could never do that. Besides, I can’t afford it.”

“Nonsense,” I reply. If you have a child or grand-child who is computer literate, and most of them are these days, they can take you to Amazon KDP and have you in a self-publishing mode in half an hour, ready to type your story into the same computer you are using to read this post. And it will cost you next to nothing. 

Truth in advertising. The most time-consuming, and for me the most enjoyable, part of that self-publishing exercise will fall on your shoulders. You are the one who composes your story. The finished book……your words, ordered in the way you choose……will be exactly as you type it into the KDP template.

Let me explain how that worked for me. The five high-quality, 400 page paperbacks I ordered for my family cost me the time to create and enter the manuscript, plus $30 out of pocket, $6 apiece. Amazon of course is in the book-selling business. Since I use their free self-publishing services I must offer the finished book for sale on their site. But because it is so personal I would prefer to limit its distribution to family and friends. 

How do I manage that? Easy. That very personal life story, about someone no one else has ever heard of, is available on Amazon for $47.50. I’m guessing that will limit the sales.

Why not take a moment to consider the stories you could leave for your loved ones. There is no limit to the possibilities……only your imagination. If I can answer any of your questions just leave a comment and I’ll give it a try.

What comes after pixie dust?

I rarely mention politics on these pages, which has me wondering if I can pull off today’s assignment……..talking about politics, without getting political.

No matter what our age, but especially in late-life, our ability to fight-the-good-fight, to tilt at offending windmills, is limited. I’ve been told, and so have you, “Don’t waste your energy trying to change or control what you can’t change or control.”

I take that to be good advice, especially when I am tempted to take my few remaining bullets and defective armor into battle against firmly entrenched adversaries. At my age I need to choose my battles carefully, or avoid them altogether.

So, welcome to America, land of the free and brave. Having grown up in a nation that likes to pretend it is always getting better, solving its problems and moving ahead, this seems like a good time to remind myself that pixie dust and good intentions will only take us so far.

Some of the challenges we face today seem intractable. For instance, no matter its cause, climate change is apparently responsible for a toxic blend of violent weather, higher temperatures, and rising ocean levels. We may not agree on the “why” of it, but the “results” are there for everyone to see, feel…….and live with.

Another of the potential battles we hear about these days is our nation’s wealth disparity, which also seems beyond our control. You have seen the numbers……the wealthiest 20% control 90% of the nation’s wealth……while the poorest 20% are an average of $6,000 underwater. The “middle-class dream” we grew up worshipping is being squeezed back into the tube. ”

Though it is hard not to be concerned about the impact of that disparity on our grandchildren’s future, as one who writes about late-life, and lives it too, I fear for those of my peers who face an ever-more-expensive world with ever-shrinking-resources. We read about how many of our citizens cannot raise $500 to deal with an emergency……and we know that large numbers of those unfortunate ones are living out their Golden Years, without a hint of gold.

You can add another lump of coal in our national legacy……the health-insurance disparity so many of our people face. No other nation in history has created medical care as good as ours. Yet in doing so we have produced a system which delivers that care unevenly, offering more or less according to arbitrary  privilege……sometimes to the point of offering no health-care options at all.

And finally, what about the most obvious sign of our times, one that plays a role in climate change, wealth disparity, health-care inequity, and many other of our national ills. That would be the ugly and dysfunctional political divide we see all around us…….jagged divisions that some say are the worst since the Civil War? 

Take a moment to imagine two well-fortified fortresses, each sitting on a high hill, separated by a wide and deep canyon. As long as they stand alone like that, two parts of the same whole, neither of them can create the future they want for their people.......not when their individual success depends on joining forces to exploit their united potential. 

But how can that “coming together,” a necessary ingredient for making the most of our nation’s potential, possibly happen in today’s demeaning climate of hatred, name calling, and mockery? What if neither side is willing to begin the bridge that spans their differences?

I said earlier I would talk politics without getting political, then proceeded to produce a series of political realities. But I am not here to take sides. As often happens I am preaching to myself, reminding myself that some circumstances will be part of my world for as long as I live.

I may do what I can to ease the impact of climate change, but the trend will continue, perhaps until it cannot be reversed. I can bemoan the inequities of wealth or health-care disparity, and pray that we are not consumed by them, but absent a drastic turnabout they will continue to widen.

As for the Great American Political Divide, it is tempting to suggest that only Jesus himself could resolve that impasse…….except it seems that both sides claim to have enlisted him into their cause, to help them do battle with the other side, which also claims he is with them.

Bottom line…..I hope I am strong enough to follow my conscience and do the best I can, while at the same time recognizing that for the few year I have left those well-established trends, and many others, will be part of our nation’s landscape, perhaps taking us to a future I do not wish for my descendants. 

What do think? Am I right about that? I hope you’ll let me know.

A Crabby Old Man

Crabby Old Man

When an old man died in the geriatric ward of a nursing home in North Platte , Nebraska , it was believed that he had nothing left of any value. Later, when the nurses were going through his meager possessions, They found this poem . 

What do you see nurses? . . What do you see?

What are you thinking . . . . . when you're looking at me?

A crabby old man,………….. not very wise,

Uncertain of habit .. . . . . . ... with faraway eyes?

Who dribbles his food . . .. . …. . and makes no reply .

When you say in a loud voice ….'I do wish you'd try!'

Who seems not to notice . . …… the things that you do .

And forever is losing . . . . .. . . . . A sock or shoe?

Who, resisting or not . . . . . . .. . . lets you do as you will,

With bathing and feeding............ The long day to fill?

Is that what you're thinking………Is that what you see?

Then open your eyes, nurse . . . . you're not looking at me .

I'll tell you who I am ……………. As I sit here so still,

As I do at your bidding, . . . . .… as I eat at your will.

I'm a small child of Ten .. . . . . . with a father and mother,

Brothers and sisters . . . ... . . . . who love one another.

A young boy of Sixteen . ……… with wings on his feet

Dreaming that soon now . . . .. .. a lover he'll meet.

A groom soon at Twenty ……… my heart gives a leap.

Remembering, the vows . . . . . . that I promised to keep.

At Twenty-Five, now . . . . . . .I have young of my own.

Who need me to guide . . .. . And a secure happy home.

A man of Thirty . . . . .. . . . … My young now grown fast,

Bound to each other . . . . . . . With ties that should last.

At Forty, my young sons .. …….…are grown and gone,

But my woman's beside me . . . . . to see I don't mourn.

At Fifty, once more,…………babies play 'round my knee,

Again, we know children . . . . . . . My loved one and me.

Dark days are upon me . ……….. my wife is now dead.

I look at the future ... . . . . …. . . . shudder with dread..

For my young are all rearing . . . . young of their own.

And I think of the years . …. . and the love I have known.

I'm now an old man . . . . . . .. .and nature is cruel.

Tis jest to make old age . . …..look like a fool.

The body, it crumbles . . . . … .grace and vigor, depart.

There is now a stone . . . . … . where I once had a heart.

But inside this old carcass . … a young guy still dwells,

And now and again . . . .. . . … my battered heart swells.

I remember the joys . . . . . . . . .I remember the pain.

And I'm loving and living . . . . . .life over again.

I think of the years, . . . . . . . . . .so few, gone so fast.

And accept the stark fact . . . . . …. that nothing can last.

So open your eyes, people . . . . . . open and see.

Not a crabby old man. Look closer ……SEE ME!!

Remember this poem when you meet an older person who you might brush aside without looking at the young soul within . . . . we will all, one day, be there, too!

Thanks to Cab Clark, South Salem Class of 56, for sharing this bit of elder wisdom. Feel free to pass it on to someone who knows the truth of it, or ought to learn that truth.

Early mornings at P.A.'s

            

As has been the case for most of my life when I ‘go to town,’ as I occasionally do, I go to Salem. And if you happened to join me there early on a weekday morning I might suggest that we stop by P.A.’s to catch up on the latest news and gossip. 

There, tucked away in an east-side industrial area, we would find his scruffy man-cave. Though it might look a bit disorganized ……chock full of tools, machines, duck decoys, a coffee pot, and several chairs arranged in something like a circle……he would surely swear that he knows exactly where every one of his treasures is located.

I don’t know what P.A. does the rest of the day, but most any morning you will find him there playing host to an eclectic assembly of drop-in guests. Chances are that motley crew will be male, long-time friends of P.A., often dating back to high school, even grade school.

There, coffee in hand, those of us who fit that description will be revisiting our version of some vaguely-remembered highlight or lowlight of our long-ago glory years. Occasionally we will be reintroduced to one-time classmates we haven’t seen in years, even decades……familiar names with faces we don’t remember at all.

Time passes quickly in those unscripted visits, as one story or long-forgotten incident triggers yet another recollection, sending us off on a new tangent. Names will be dropped and personal histories updated as we exchange news about other friends and classmates. The information itself may sometimes be less than accurate, even exaggerated. So what? What difference does that make when basking in the comfortable sense of connection to a shared past.

At an age when so many of those schoolboy and schoolgirl friends have left the scene, I find that those moments spent at P.A.’s, revisiting earlier times, provide a connection I won’t find in any other social exchange. I am reminded that no matter how much we have changed those youthful recollections, so important in their day, still draw us together.

Perhaps it helps to know that like me, every one of the fellows who gather there is dealing with his own unique set of what we label “late-life issues.” Except when someone decides to express a particular concern or offer special thanks for a bullet dodged, there is no need to elaborate. Suffice it to understand that we all face our own octogenarian trials.

Truth be told, not every one of P.A.’s early morning dialogues takes us down that ‘good-old-days’ road. Some days a younger group, with fewer of us old fossils on hand, will deal comfortably with other, more contemporary topics. But when the conversational scales are tipped in our ‘remember-when’ favor there may be no reining in our far-ranging recollections. 

I, for one, am just fine with that. I am living in my own November, for God’s sake. (at least I hope it is.) I reserve the right to indulge myself a bit, while putting my personal history in sharper perspective. I am thankful for a forum that helps me do that. I’ve been around long enough to know that the past is not a proper place to live. I do, however, find it an enjoyable, even fruitful place to visit from time to time.

I would never say P.A.’s is a fit for everyone, but if you are one of those who would benefit from that sort of connection I wish for you a morning with P.A. or some place like that.

Family Time -- the ultimate Thanksgiving gift

       

           After years of blogging there came a point when I finally moved past the need to fill these largely unread pages with new material on a regular basis. It seemed I had moved beyond that ‘pen to paper’ itch.

Still, every so often I sense the urge to open my rusty mind-gates long enough to free pent-up thoughts that want to escape. This feels like one of those times.

It strikes me as fitting that the annual Thanksgiving season marks the time of year when Roma and I are once again the same age. This year the number is 82, which I accept as a well-earned benchmark, meaning we’ve been together for 63 years, which is surely reason to give thanks. Chances are it also wins her a medal.

At moments like this I suppose it is natural to count our blessings. That seems especially true after the weekend last month when our clan gathered at the beach for several days to celebrate Roma’s birthday. It was a special, unstructured family time……four generations of us visiting, playing games, laughing together, and generally enjoying ourselves in the company of that special lady, a prime molder of the persons we  have  all become.

Truth to tell, the two of us have moved beyond the time when travel ……whether extended international adventures or quiet weekends at the beach……is a favored pursuit. For a one-time travel junkie like me that is quite a change. 

What has not changed, however, are the warm and comfortable possibilities of family time. Neither a long drive nor a few nights in an unfamiliar bed is too great a price to pay for that

Of course those family gatherings may sometimes include awkward moments……when Grandma’s first inclination is to do what she has always done……organize, prepare, and do most everything that has to be done. Fortunately,  our very adult offspring, and their adult children, were quite willing to step up and carry the load……though it wasn’t always easy to convince Grandma that she had earned a break?

As viewed from the adjoining living room (except for loading the dishwasher and carving the turkey I am not a ‘kitchen guy.’) the results were invariably an amiable compromise. With everyone lending a hand we had a great time……walks on the beach for the energetic ones, eating well, enjoying a few ballgames, and playing our share of pinochle.

Long story short……such a matriarchal celebration was cause for thanksgiving  It was not the time to be dwelling on the sometimes dubious reality of growing another year older. Instead, the Queen and I sat back and basked in the pleasant warmth of caring company and family fun……thankful for how the years have blessed us.   

And why not? There will be time enough tomorrow to deal with those sometimes distressing ‘aging’ situations we cannot avoid even the best of times.

Permission to raise a little hell

It is fair to ask what brings me back to these blog pages. After all, I’m the guy who said it was time to head for the sidelines, that he had run out of October (and November) things to say. That may have been true. But it was before the following bit of elder wisdom that had me thinking second thoughts.

“For people like me the notion that ‘old age is a time to dial it down and play it safe’ is a cop-out. Those of us who are still able should be raising hell on behalf of whatever we care about.”

Those are the words of Parker J. Palmer, from his book On the Brink of Everything — Grace, Gravity & Getting Old. I am pleased to recommend the book, and especially the implied permission it gives me to continue with my own low-grade ‘hell raising.’

Later, in those same pages Palmer adds, “I may be old, but I’m still a member of this community. I have a voice and things I need to say, and I want to be part of the conversation.” With that in mind I invite you to consider the following bit of elder-babble.

No matter what our age, our life-journey has included its share of highs and lows, twists and turns……which can be measured and charted in many different ways. Drawing on our own recollections we can track our life’s path in terms of our school and work history, the things we have done and not done, how successful or unsuccessful our efforts have been, or the family we have helped create. Like a wilderness explorer blazing a trail through the forest we have left all sorts of personal markers in our wake.

This morning I set out to expand on another of those life-journey trail markers……namely, the most impactful friends I have made along the way, and how they have helped me become the person I am. 

We humans like to blame someone or something else for what goes wrong in our life, while taking full credit when things turn our right. Yet too often we fail to recognize the contributions of our friends and allies…… especially the ‘best friends’ we have made on our journey to today.

The logic seems so sound, so rational. Everyone needs and wants friends. They complete the person we are……helping us fill in the blanks that are part of every life. That is true in childhood, in adolescence, in adulthood, even in elderhood.

We know that deep friendships are not a matter of random choice. They happen because mutual needs are being met. It is also true that over the years our needs have changed, replaced by new ones that lead us to new and different friendships. It seems to me that over time those close friendships, including the ones we have left behind, can act as trail-blazing markers, helping tell the story of our Becoming.

At different stages of our journey different friends have helped us learn different life lessons. In a real sense we can chart important parts of our own path to Becoming by remembering the best-friends we have won and lost along the way. 

That was the story I meant to tell this morning, the notion that revisiting those life-changing friendships helps us understand the person we have become. Sadly, a closer look at my own ‘friend’ history was enough to raise more than a little hell with my logic.

It took about five minutes to realize the truth of it. Perhaps that ‘friend tracking’ idea does not apply to me. Instead of remembering a string of best-friends, and their contributions, what I came up with was largely a list of kind and caring acquaintances. Though I certainly appreciate all those, when it comes to close, life-changing friendships……beyond the family circle that has always been central in my life……I was able to count just three individuals, three best-friends, who played the role I have described. For some reason I expected there would be more.

First was my high-school best-friend. Careening together through adolescence we seemed to give each other permission to be a little crazy, taking us to places I would never have gone on my own. And then there was the high-school girlfriend, the first girl who seemed to like me just the way I was……until I left for college and ‘out-of-sight out-of-mind’ won out.

Finally, in college, there was Roma, the one I was not willing to let out of my sight or mind. We met in our freshman year and 63 years later are still filling the role of Best Friend for each other……expanding the definition of what friendship means to us.

Still, returning to my original point, the close and meaningful friendships you and I have made in the course of our life journey (no matter what their number or when they arrived on the scene) have most certainly played a role in our Becoming. I know for sure that those on my micro-list have met that test.

Which brings me to my suggested homework assignment, one I highly recommend. The instructions are easy peasy. Simply turn off the TV, crank the recliner back a notch or two, and close your eyes. If you haven’t dozed off by then, make a conscious return to your past. Introduce yourself to one or another of the once-close friends who have perhaps not crossed your mind in ages.

With that old friend perched clearly in the front of your mind ask yourself a few questions. What did you learn from your time with him or her? How might your life be different had he or she not shown up?

Make that internal dialogue as real and personal as you dare. Dig as deep as your comfort zone allows. This is not about sharing your insights with anyone. Its about you exploring you.

Though I have no illusions of it happening, if you are so inclined I invite you to share your own bit of friend-related ‘hell raising’ with the rest of us……in an appropriate, abridged form, of course.

What do you think? Might it be time to revisit one of the 'someones' who once played an important part in your life……to perhaps mentally thank or scold them for their role? Most of us recognize the ways we were shaped by parents and family. I’m not sure how many of us understand the important ways our friends and friendships have played a part. I think it’s worth the effort to see where that takes you.